What Hurts the Most
by Teddy R. Lupin
Summary: Post-"The Truth Hurts." Pete Lattimer and the rest of the Warehouse team await the verdict of Myka's surgery. Unestablished Pete/Myka, can be interpreted as either friendship or something more. One-shot.


**First Warehouse 13 fanfic for me, but after the season four finale, I couldn't resist writing this. Of course this is me, being the optimist here. Some of my facts are probably wrong, and as to why there's no mention of Mrs. Frederic or Abigale, I'm assuming that they just went back to the B&B or something. Title is from the song by Rascal Flatts, which inspired me to write this.**

***SPOILERS FOR SEASON FOUR***

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A kiss on the forehead. Myka had basically been walking to her death...and he'd kissed her on the _forehead_. Hours later, and she _still_ wasn't out of surgery. Pete had done some stupid things, and he _knew_ that if Myka was here, she'd be killing him. Personally, he thought he deserved to be bronzed. He'd basically let an evil, immortal revenge-driven maniac loose, all because he thought that he could have a chance to save Myka. But he'd been played. He, Peter Lattimer, had been played, and now he'd lost any hope he might've had.

He was once again going to lose his best friend.

Artie and Steve were sitting in the chairs in the waiting room, not making eye contact as the older man sifted through his bag for anything that could possibly help, and the younger perused magazines for whatever would take his mind off of the best friend that could be dead for all he knew. Pete was pacing back and forth, unable to be still, waiting for Myka's doctor to walk down the hall...be it with good news or bad news.

At this point he just wanted to know.

Steve looked up for a moment, studying Pete, and just as he opened his mouth to say something, maybe that he knew how this felt - hell, Claudia was just as dead as Myka, once Paracelsus got hold of her. But he knew it wasn't the same, Pete wouldn't see it that way. And neither of them could deal with the loss of the two most important women in their lives.

Pete tilted his head and offered Steve probably the largest smile he could muster - which was nothing more than a frown. His eyes were red, cheeks stained with salty tears. He was just about to finally sit down, after hours of endless pacing, when a pair of green scrubs appeared at the end of the hallway. Suddenly his body was frozen. This was it. No matter the news, he was _not_ going to cry. And even as the space closed between the two men, Pete knew he would nonetheless.

He watched the approaching doctor - he looked young, probably younger than Pete himself - and though his face wasn't grim, it wasn't cheerful, and that_ had_ to mean bad news. The surgery wasn't supposed to have been that long. "Mr Lattimer?" Pete nodded immediately. Myka had listed him as her emergency contact...seeing as he was the only one aside from her doctors to know about her cancer. His heart broke just a little bit more knowing that he would have to inform her parents and sister about what exactly had happened to their daughter - why her pride had prevented her from telling anyone else. He tried not to think about what would've happened had she not told even him. Even more, he tried not to think about _why_ she told him.

"How is she?" And though they said nothing, Pete could see in his mind's eye that Artie and Steve had looked up, and even at each other, while waiting for the doctor's response. Neither of them had been as close to Myka as Pete, but she still meant the world to them. Their team was hanging by a string - each of them was seconds away from giving up.

"She's going to make it."

At those words, Pete let out a sigh of relief, realising that his heart was beating way too fast, and as he turned to face his teammates, they returned his beaming grin with two of their own. "Oh thank god," he gasped out - not even knowing that he'd been short of breath in the first place. Of course, this didn't mean it was over. Myka's struggle with cancer was not over. But she would be alive, and for now, that was enough. There was no guarantee that she would be perfectly healthy for the rest of her life...and most assuredly, if one day she wanted children, she would not be able to have them. But for Pete, she was alive, and that was more important than anything. "Can I..." He motioned down the hall. "Can I see her?"

The doctor nodded curtly. "Of course," he assured Pete. "If you'll follow me..."

So follow he did. They turned multiple corners, and Pete followed Myka's doctor in nothing less than a haze. There was no doubt that he'd get lost on the way back to the waiting room. But he didn't care. Myka was _alive_. She was living, she was _breathing_. He didn't even notice when the doctor stepped away, an open door Pete's entrance.

Her eyes were closed, and she almost looked peaceful. She didn't even look like she'd just had surgery. As she always did to Pete, she looked perfect. She was his best friend, and he knew in that moment - if he hadn't before - that he would never be able to live without her by his side. He'd been foolish. Years of chasing after her, years of hoping she never noticed the way he looked at her. Years of forcing himself to pretend that he didn't care when it was all too obvious he did.

Sighing, a small smile crossed his lips, and he pulled up a chair, taking a seat beside her bed. Tentatively, he leaned up to brush hair from her face, eyes unblinking, as if he looked away for even a moment, she would vanish. "Myka," he whispered, another tear falling from his eyes that were probably more red and puffy than even he thought. "I..." His hand gripped her unresponsive one, and he took a deep breath. "I never told you. I was just scared. Yeah. Me, Pete. Afraid. Funny, right?" He looked down, shaking his head. "God, Mykes, you scared me to death. Just...don't do this again, okay?" And after another moment, he leaned over to press his lips to her hand. "I _can't lose you, too_."

_Fin._

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**Hope you enjoyed it - it made a friend of mine cry actually, so I consider myself proud! Please remember to review, I'll be immensely grateful. If I get enough reviews, I may write another little one-shot like this. Maybe something more fluffy the second time around.**

**Cheers!**


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